


Gnossienne

by aliceecrivain



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Explicit Sex, Trust Issues, some description of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceecrivain/pseuds/aliceecrivain
Summary: One night the power in the mansion suddenly goes out causing a burst of chaos and confusion all around, but Charles is more concerned about the uninvited visitor in their midst. However, when he goes to investigate he doesn't find exactly what--or who--he'd been expecting.





	Gnossienne

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [this](http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/42192624213/gnossienne) definition and of course the actual gnossiennes ( [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUAF3abGY2M) , [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lq7yGlT6_kA) ) by my boy satie if anyone's interested
> 
> Quick 'verse explanation: I wanted to write something closer to canon-verse than I usually write, and this is what happened. I think the closest thing I can compare it to is a mix between the alternate universe movies and the animated series in that I took the characters (or at least the kids) from XMA but basically nothing else. That is to say I ignored any stupid shit they did with Erik's character and just let him be off doing his normal Magneto thing à la the 90s TV show (and most other adaptions). It's basically cherry-picked canon-verse lmao
> 
> It doesn't really matter but all of that ^^ seemed like too much to put in the tags.

It was a calm night out, the air verging on something like springtime despite the cooler, occasional breeze, that the power went out in the mansion.

Exaggerated shrieks came from the living room where most of its inhabitants were gathered, followed by an anticipatory silence as if they expected them to be flipped right back on, and then a burst of loud conversation as they began to discuss the issue. Charles sighed, putting a bit more effort into his shielding so as not to get a headache.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” Hank said from somewhere nearby. The two of them had been talking in the kitchen before the electricity decided to give out for no apparent reason. The few windows the room had weren’t providing much in the way of illumination so Charles could no longer see him.

“No, it shouldn’t have,” Charles murmured, more for the sake of replying than anything else. It wasn’t raining out and Hank kept the electrical systems working as well as they possibly could, a little obsessive over the project but nothing if not tireless and thorough. The security system required that it ran a bit better than average after all.

A thought strayed across his mind, rare and skittish but certainly not out of the question, but he set it to the side for the time being. He focused instead on sending a much-needed “ _all is well, don’t panic, Hank and I are right here_ ” sort of message out toward the students. For some reason that only caused the ruckus in the living room to increase approximately tenfold.

“Professor!” Jubilee shouted through the din. Charles could sense her approaching, stumbling her way along through the darkness. A thought crossed her mind to use her powers to light her way, but thankfully for the surrounding furniture, she decided against it. “What happened? How come the lights went off again?”

More footsteps followed after her. “It’s not even raining,” Scott griped. “Last time at least it was snowing out.”

“At least it’s not cold this time,” Jean pointed out, quieter in her approach and more level-headed, per usual, in her assessment of the situation.

“Yeah,” Jubilee admitted. “This house is cool but it sure is old as balls.”

Charles furiously bit back any reaction he might have had to the exchange even as Scott immediately went to reprimand her for her phrasing.

“We don’t know what happened yet,” Charles admitted and at least that made them quiet down some. “I can read minds, not circuit breakers. I’m sure Hank will be able to get it back up and running soon. In the meantime, the flashlights and candles are in the same place they were last time so we can go fetch them. We just need to be careful roaming around.”

“It’s probably just a faulty switch or something,” Hank contributed. Charles could tell he was more annoyed about the system error than the darkness itself. He supposed it was refreshing to see someone acting normal. “It should be easy to fix.”

“There we are,” Charles agreed. “In the meantime, let’s stay away from less traditional light-sources, shall we? I’d rather not have a repeat incident from last time.”

That drew more murmuring, mostly directed toward Ororo who Charles could sense crossing her arms in defiance. “It was only a tiny lightning storm! I had it under control.”

“No powers until we fix this, alright?” Charles suggested, pressing down on the small bit of frustration he could feel rising up as tension in his shoulders.

“What about Jean? I bet she’s using her powers! That’s not fair just because hers aren’t physical,” Jubilee complained.

Charles let out a sigh in the form of a more polite exhale, but thought perhaps she had a point. It might be in everyone’s best interest that he stood firm on this. “No powers until the lights go back on. That goes for everyone, including me. Is that fair?”

There was a grumbled chorus of agreement. Charles in the meantime immediately disobeyed his own order and made a more surreptitious sweep of the area around the mansion—just in case—and then throughout it as well. He avoided the children’s minds, for the sake of playing along, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t what he was after.

At first there was only further silence and Charles prepared to bear a mix of resignation and disappointment which he’d become familiar with over the years. But then, suddenly, recognition. Subtle but present and certainly purposeful, not unlike an echo finally returning after travelling a ways away and back. Stubborn allowance of contact, edged with something like shame if not quite remorse. So instead, resignation and wariness, less common but not at all foreign.

 _We have a guest_ , Charles sent Hank whose mind was churning through some infinite number of possible things to have gone wrong. It drew to an abrupt halt at the interruption however.

He could almost feel Hank’s expression growing strained across the room. _So it’s that kind of power outage._

 _It seems like it_.

Frustration emanated briefly from Hank before he too allowed resignation to wash over him, quietly accepting the situation. He knew well enough that he couldn’t do much about it now, nor would he want to intervene even if he could change it. _Alright. Guess I better get to work then. It’ll need an overhaul again. I’m sure the whole thing is fried._

Charles sent back something like an apology, although Hank was quick to get on with things as always.

_I should get started. Could you…at least maybe tell him to just knock out a single breaker next time? That would do the job just as well I’m pretty sure._

He doubted that would do much good, but he assured the other man that he would try before turning his attention back to the children. (He was also most definitely not thinking at all about any kind of _next time_ , having been hurt by that sort of thing more than once before.) It seemed an argument had broken out in the meantime over whether or not Kurt’s tail counted as a mutation and if so what to do about it.

“Let’s all go find the flashlights, shall we?” Charles suggested loudly rather than trying to sort it out, wanting to intervene before Kurt grew anymore distressed than he already was by the way things were heading. Fortunately that caught the majority’s attention and soon after they were off.

Charles led the caravan down the hall, off toward one of the storage closets. After things had been sorted out the last time he’d pondered putting everything back where it used to be, stored away upstairs somewhere, but had ultimately left it. He probably would have argued if the decision had been termed optimistic. That was a bit much. He preferred to think of it as simple practicality. The mansion was old, after all, and there was always the chance the lights might go out on their own one of these days.

Soon enough everyone was equipped with some variety of handheld light. Those holding flashlights quickly flicked them on, illuminating a decent-sized space around the group. It was enough for Charles to catch Hank slipping away, headed off to get to work. Everyone else seemed in immediately better spirits now that they could see, each of them like gold ghosts hovering about, faces in the dark, beginning to chatter again.

Charles wasn’t paying nearly as close attention to their conversation as he normally would be. Now that things were a bit more under control he couldn’t help feeling distracted. As such, he missed the first half of Scott’s statement. Luckily it wasn’t difficult to skim his intention off his surface thoughts.

“You all needn’t do anything for now,” Charles assured him, knowing Hank would only begrudge company while he worked, no matter how good-intentioned. “It would be better if you stayed in a group unless you feel like turning in for the night. Otherwise, I’d prefer you not wander around too much. I think now would be a wonderful time for you all to get some bookwork done, don’t you think?”

The suggestion was met with a series of dejected noises and mumblings, most likely because they’d been planning earlier on putting on a film instead.

“There’re also board games in the cupboard next to the television,” Charles amended. They did have work to be done but, admittedly, he knew they would be far more distracted playing than reading, and at the moment keeping them occupied on their own was his general goal.

That was met with a warmer reaction.

“We should play Clue!” Jubilee announced.

“Not again,” Jean grumbled. “I just played with you two days ago.”

“What about cards?”

“No way! You always cheat!”

“What? That was one time!”

“We could play Monopoly?” Kurt suggested, and Charles, in spite of his steadily rising impatience and desperation to get this settled already, couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of him for speaking up.

Something like agreement rose up from the suggestion and soon everyone seemed eager to start. Charles let a small bit of relief wash over him.

“What about you, Professor?” Jean asked, turning toward him, her gaze somewhat piercing.

Charles swallowed, forcing himself to not think too much of it. That sort of focused, knowing gaze wasn’t abnormal for her. “Not tonight. I’m going to go give Hank a hand. You all should go have fun.”

There was a minor burst of disappointment and a few attempts to draw him in, but they were short-lived. Soon enough, the group was off, heading back toward the living room, taking all the light and sound in the space with them and leaving Charles alone once more in the cool vacuum of the night.

He itched to get moving already but waited until he was sure the children were fully occupied setting up the game before he flicked on his own flashlight and headed off toward the lift. Despite having parted with the commotion of the students, Charles did not feel much calmer. In fact, his heart was skittering anxiously in his chest in a way it hardly did anymore. He supposed some things never changed.

He didn’t begrudge it completely he supposed, getting off at the second floor and forcing himself to wheel at a less frantic pace down the hall (he was far more concerned with the movement of his chair being read than with the disorder of his mind after all). It did make him feel younger which, considering he spent most of his time looking after a small horde of high-school-aged children, wasn’t unwelcome.

Still, about halfway down the hall stretching black and endless in front of him, he worked on being realistic. In this case, that meant preparing for just about anything. It was nights like these that Charles was unfortunately reminded far too often that he had not, in fact, seen everything. He did doubt that the other man would have chosen such a clandestine entry (well, comparatively clandestine) if he was there with some true antagonistic purpose. Then again, Charles had been known to be wrong before.

Hesitantly, Charles reached out again, not peering in, but observing from afar. He was surprised to find that familiar yet distant mind still relatively open to him, drawing him in like a light in a window on an otherwise dark street. He knew of few other non-telepaths who were quite so sensitive to feeling someone else in their mind, even if it was just a brush of psyches, so it was possible he might have noticed, but there was nothing to be done for it. Charles couldn’t help his curiosity, all the stronger now after what he’d found. Usually all possibility for that sort of connection was cut off as soon as possible after its usefulness had passed.

Charles’s heart started to do even more foolish things and he decided he really needed to get a handle on it. It was never a good idea to go into these impromptu meetings with any kind of expectation. He knew that well enough, not that he ever managed to truly learn his lesson when he did it anyway. Nonetheless he went about reinforcing his shields, telepathic and otherwise, some of which were rusty, well-worn from years of use, but still reliable.

He paused just outside the door of his room to take a breath. The darkness felt claustrophobic and came rushing into his lungs when he did, pressing against him from the inside out, holding him fast. Charles only allowed it to go on for a few moments before he shook himself. He reached out to the minds of the children, now deeply ensconced within their game, and Hank, working to figure out where the problem was, and that helped to ground him.

There was nothing else to be done but go in. Hesitating now would do him no good. One more breath and Charles reached for the doorknob.

He kept his eyes to himself while he went about entering and shutting the door. The lock clicked shut without him touching it and at that he did turn.

Charles did his best to bite back his surprise and keep his face clear but he wasn’t sure how well he did. He couldn’t help but be caught off guard. He’d been expecting Magneto to be waiting for him, as that was often how these visits went, but instead all he found was Erik, facing away from him, leaning up against his desk, and staring off into the expanse of the night.

At least Erik wasn’t looking at him yet. Charles swallowed hard and attempted to regroup rather than pay attention to his mind trying to puzzle out the million different things this might mean. After all, he probably still needed to be Professor X at the moment, for everyone’s sake, until he knew better where he stood.

“It’s been a while,” he said for the sake of breaking the silence with something bland and obvious. It was uncomfortable, remaining as they were in the pitch black of the room shattered only by the loud yellow beam of his flashlight, now pointed toward the desk, and the faint grey light drifting in from the window where the outside of the mansion was better lit than the inside, but Charles didn’t make any move to approach. It was always better to let Erik set the tone for these sorts of things and then react accordingly.

“Hasn’t it always?” Erik replied, voice rough but familiar. There was something of the usual rhythm they fell into during these confrontations but it was off somehow. The outline of Erik’s shoulders rose and fell, mountains shifting under the weight of something tremendous.

“I suppose so.” Charles gripped at the arms of his chair, squeezing just to feel something solid while the nervous gesture couldn’t be observed. “Hank’s asked me to request that, should you visit again, you only blow part of the system rather than the entire thing.” Testing the waters, watching his tone, always so careful at the beginning.

That drew something like a snort from Erik. “Did he? As if he’d rather spend his night any other way than tinkering with his toys. I did him a favor.”

There was something more familiar there, some obligatory dismissiveness that Erik had adopted over the years. It was an easy way to create distance, he suspected. Charles selfishly wished he could see the other man better but outwardly only leaned further into his predetermined role. “Why are you here, Erik?”

Silence. Charles bit back the immediate irritation that arose from the lack of an answer. It wasn’t as strong as it used to be ten years or so ago with him having grown desensitized to it over time. There was some consolation in the fact that he could sense Erik’s mind turning even as he kept away from it. It at least wasn’t a response he was at peace with.

Charles couldn’t help but move a bit closer, halfway across the room or so now, stopping in the middle. He was pondering how to pick up again without just repeating his question when Erik spoke up.

“Where are your little X-Men?” he asked. “I thought I’d be up here some time waiting while you attended to them.”

Charles wasn’t sure if that was a cloaked threat or simply a deflection. For the sake of not starting a fight if he could help it, he decided to give it the benefit of the doubt. Erik was usually nothing if not direct in his bouts of antagonism so there was a good chance he’d already know by now if that’s what this was about.

“They’re fine on their own for a while,” Charles said. “Hank’s about to keep an eye on them. I suspected you’d have only come if it was about a matter of some importance or urgency, so here I am.”

Charles felt a mild sting of irritation that wasn’t his and a bit of pride for having rerouted the conversation so easily.

That didn’t draw anything further from Erik however. Charles could hear and see him shifting somewhat where he was still leaning against the desk. Not thinking—Erik was too quick-witted for that. Working himself up to something maybe.

Unease at not fully comprehending the situation at hand rose up within Charles and he decided it was time for a different direction. He coughed out a laugh. “Well? Do you want me to guess? I doubt I’ll be much good at it. I haven’t ever been able to predict your actions or motives, my friend.”

Erik shifted again, the black solidity of his silhouette stark against the low light from the window. It was dark enough in the room that it was blurred somewhat and less distinct for it. If Charles didn’t know for a fact it was Erik (he supposed he didn’t know that for a _fact_ but he sincerely hoped it was. He wasn’t in the mood for any mind-control/shapeshifting/impersonator nonsense at the moment, thank you very much) it could have been anything, a mutable shape in the night, friend or foe. Even as it was, it was sometimes hard to know.

“It wasn’t always that way,” Erik murmured, quieter than before, shattering the illusion.

Charles blinked, surprised to hear something he was far more likely to say come from the other man. He was right, if one counted that small sum of months they’d been of the same mind—or so they’d both thought. But as it was, “It’s been a long time,” Charles amended. Back to the beginning again. It was always like that with them, past and present existing at the same time in some uneasy amalgamation, and it made it exceedingly difficult to know where one stood.

That was enough, seemingly, since at last Erik turned and came around the front of the desk. He didn’t stray far from it. Instead he leaned back up against it, but the motion was stunted, more of a collapse than anything else. Charles closed the distance himself, some feet between them still, but close enough that he could lift his flashlight and understand.

Erik looked awful. His clothes were dirty and ripped, the fabric clotted with enough blood that Charles couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from. What skin Charles could see was similarly smeared with filth of some kind and bruises crept down his arms where his sleeves were pushed up. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week which for Erik wasn’t so unusual, but this wasn’t the fatigue of a man staying up planning a revolution. This was the fatigue of man who’d stayed awake for fear of what might happen should he let his guard slip.

Beneath all of it Erik was still recognizable. There’d at last been some grey making itself known through his hair last time Charles had seen him and it was still there now. Underneath one of the more obvious cuts right above his left eyebrow was his usual cool, measured stare: unwavering, icy blue daring Charles to pity him or say the wrong thing so he could say the exact right one back. The lines on his face that had gathered over the years, the breadth of his shoulders, the line of his jaw—and so on. Charles forced himself to focus again.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Erik beaten up, but it was certainly the most severe. He looked like someone had tied his ankle to the back of a bike and then drug him around for a few good hours over a particularly treacherous trail.

“Erik…” He knew the last thing Erik wanted was his pity, but he couldn’t help it. What else was he supposed to say? He knew full well the other man got himself into the majority of the dangerous situations he found himself in, but there was never much logic involved when it came to Charles’s feelings on the matter.

Erik sighed and looked past him across the room. “Don’t start, Charles. I don’t want to hear it tonight.”

Charles pressed his lips together and lowered his flashlight a bit for the sake of not blinding anyone. Countless questions burbled up within him.

 _Why did you come here then?_ he wanted to demand. _Why not go home to whatever silly, remote metal fortress you’ve been hiding out in lately? Why not go back to your Brotherhood or whoever else might be waiting for you?_

Other questions too, of course, not quite so bitter. _What happened? What can I do? Are you alright?_

_I know you’d die for your cause, but must you always treat your own well-being like an afterthought?_

He knew full well he couldn’t ask any of them, at least not right now. Some he could never ask and instead kept pressed down inside himself. Sometimes he worried about trying to contain them, feeling as though one day he might suffocate on his own silence. But tonight wasn’t the time for that, and certainly not in front of Erik.

Really, at this point, there was only one useful question for him to ask. “What do you need from me?”

Because Erik wouldn’t be here unless he had to be. This was a last resort. _He_ was a last resort. Charles knew that well enough by now.

Conflict arose across Erik’s face in the tightening of his jaw and new lines between his eyebrows, and underneath that something Charles could have sworn was shame. There was another extended silence which was Erik’s preferred form of communication when he didn’t feel like arguing, and Charles waited through it. As much as he didn’t want to throw Erik out as he was, he couldn’t let him stay without a proper answer. His time was worth more than that.

“I just need a place to stay for the night,” Erik finally admitted, meeting his eyes again, “and access to a first-aid kit if possible. No one will even know I’m here unless you tell them, I swear. You can…check if you need to.”

Charles kept his reaction to that final amendment very much to himself although he knew it’d taken a lot for Erik to say that, whether he meant it or not. “I believe you,” Charles told him and was gratified to see some tension dissolve from Erik’s frame. “And very well. My doors are always open to anyone who needs help.” He could see Erik physically resisting a retort to that which was perhaps even more gratifying, even if Charles could admit to the pettiness that came along with the feeling.

Erik nodded. “I appreciate it.”

Charles thought he ought to show him to a room and get on with the night, get back down to the students, check in on Hank. That would be the most responsible thing to do. It would be what Professor X would do.

Unfortunately that wasn’t what Charles wanted to do, and while he was well-versed in setting his own wishes aside for the sake of others, he thought tonight he was going to be selfish. Besides, he couldn’t help but be curious.

He also rarely had the kind of leverage Erik had just handed him at his disposal. It would be stupid not to use it. “Why here?” he asked, looking at the farthest point in the room that the flashlight reached. “I know you have allies. Surely it would be less trouble to ask them for help.”

It was probably too revealing of a question, but Charles doubted Erik would call him on it. It wasn’t as though the answer he wanted to hear would be remotely related to the one he’d ultimately receive. Maybe that was why he’d asked in the first place. This way he’d have something neat and tangible to slot into that questioning place in his mind rather than leaving it free to be filled with who knows what.

Erik sighed and closed his eyes, leaning more heavily against the desk. It made him look like an old tree, bent over time by the elements and the passing years, but still standing. “It’s the last place someone would think to look for me, that’s all.”

Charles forced himself to swallow that as best he could even as something inside him felt like an unstable floorboard, bent in from years of use and creaking threateningly as someone stepped down on it. He nodded. “Well, I’d offer you a shower to use but it’ll be cold and you won’t be able to see much.”

Erik straightened up, putting his full weight on his feet finally. Rather than reply he put a hand out, palm parallel to the floor, and closed his eyes again. Charles could feel his mind working in a far more focused manner all of a sudden.

It didn’t take long until the lights in Charles’s room—and whatever else was connected to that same breaker, Charles assumed—came back on. There was some commotion downstairs which meant he’d fixed more than just this area, but it died down surprisingly fast. Too involved in their game to care, it seemed. That was probably for the best.

Erik opened his eyes and Charles couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. “What?” he asked, and something like a smile strayed across his face. That was rare enough that Charles would probably later think he was seeing things as his eyes adjusted to the light again. “I didn’t break them permanently. What good would that do me if I wanted to stay the night here? Don’t worry, I left a few for Hank. Wouldn’t want him feeling useless around here.”

Charles frowned at him even if he was more absorbed in watching Erik roll his shoulders, one after the other. The stains on his clothes were much more prominent in the light, vibrant marks of conflict seeping through the fabric. He really did look worse for wear. “Would you have turned it back on if I’d said no?”

Erik gave Charles a look which he could only interpret as, “What do you think?” (Charles knew the answer; it was a rhetorical question. It was the same as before: what good would that have done him?) and set off toward the bathroom on the other side of the room.

The movement caught him off-guard and it took a moment for the common sense to kick in. He knew he should object and point out that he could easily give Erik a different, more private room. It wasn’t like he was lacking in empty space in the house. The students were liable to burst in on him in the middle of the night for whatever reason, so if he didn’t want to be discovered it would be better to go elsewhere.

Of course, he didn’t say any of that. As much as he knew it would be better for his own sake, he couldn’t be the one that took that first step back, the first to push away. He just didn’t have the strength to do that quite yet. He thought he was getting there, but there was still a ways to go. He also couldn’t be the one to pull closer, but that was an entirely different issue altogether.

Besides, perhaps Erik meant to shower here and then move after the children went to bed. That was reasonable.

He knew he couldn’t be completely irresponsible however, or that it would weigh on him if he was, so rather than follow after Erik, he took a moment to check in with Hank.

 _How’s it going?_ Charles sent.

The response came quickly enough with Hank used to speaking this way. _Alright. Seems like it’s not too broken down here actually and I’m making decent progress as I’m sure you can tell. How about you? Should I be preparing everyone for anything?_

Charles didn’t have the heart to tell him that Erik had waved his hand and set most things right in less than a minute. He thought it would be better to just move the conversation forward. _It’s alright, but I probably won’t be down for a while. Can you make sure they get to bed at a decent time? If you really need me I’ll come along, but I’d rather not leave him alone._ Hank would appreciate that sentiment, he assumed.

_Sure. I think that’s probably for the best. We’re not in any imminent danger then?_

_Not anymore than usual._ Charles purposefully did not think of whoever it was that could be after Erik at this exact moment who’d made him desperate enough to come here of all places.

_Good. Back to work then._

_Good luck, Hank. Thank you_.

Charles heard the water turn on in the other room and looked out the window. There was fog gathering now, an encroaching grey wave giving the illusion that the rest of the world was sinking away, out of sight and nonexistent as a result. He knew that wasn’t true and it would be best to keep that in mind throughout the rest of the night.

For the sake of putting off the inevitable, Charles clicked his flashlight off and went to set it on his desk. He put away some papers while he was there. Erik wasn’t one to snoop but it was better safe than sorry. Appearing overly trusting hadn’t exactly paid dividends in the past. At that point he gave up on being reasonable and made his way over to the bathroom.

Erik’s clothes were in the sink which was polite if not unexpected. He’d always been tidy in spite of himself. Charles just appreciated the idea of not having to scrub blood off his bathroom floor later.

The room was already filling with steam, suffocating in an entirely different manner than the darkness had been. It curled around Charles, drawing him in and making moisture condense on the metal parts of his chair. The shower curtain was pulled shut so Charles could again only see Erik’s vague outline. It was less menacing than it had been pitched up against the window, but no more tangible.

“You could have chosen a less complicated shower to use if you’d wanted,” Charles pointed out. He doubted Erik would move now that he was in there. That was more to announce his presence than anything else.

“It’s not that complicated, just larger than usual,” Erik replied.

Charles could smell his own soap permeating the air and wished he begrudged Erik using his things so cavalierly. He didn’t want to start with that though. All that would get him was snide comments about his wealth. “Do you need anything else?” he asked instead.

“Not right now. I could do with something to wear later.”

Charles supposed he had a point. He thought about saying something to the effect of clothes not being included with room and board but thought better of it. “I probably have something. I’ll go look.”

Erik made an affirmatory noise and Charles went back to being rational again, turning away from the shape of Erik’s body moving behind the curtain and the embrace of the steam and out into the cool air of his room to poke around in his closet for something oversized or able to stretch. He didn’t have much time for cleaning out drawers so he thought he ought to have something lying around.

After uncovering an old oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants from where they’d fallen in a back corner, Charles headed back. He didn’t make it very far, however, before something caught his eye. He frowned and went to scoop up the offending object. It was cold and heavy in his hand, but he couldn’t sense anything else from it. It wasn’t much use on its own.

He fought back the hurt that came from the sight of it, rising up like bile into his throat from the pit of his stomach. He tried to focus on something else instead like the fact that Erik had come here fleeing someone as a last resort, in street clothes rather than his usual get-up, and had still managed to drag this godforsaken helmet along with him.

That was better, even if he knew the exasperation was only masking everything else, a shallow drizzle washing away something unseemly smeared across a sidewalk. Charles considered taking it with him and starting what would surely turn into an argument they’d had a hundred times before but thought better of it. Instead he threw it into the back of his closet, satisfied with the dull thud it made against the carpet, and shut the door. He didn’t want to look at it.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Realistically he knew Erik had deep-rooted trust issues that began far before the two of them had met and his distrust of Charles was only one part of a much larger whole. Still, there was a difference between knowing that and having the symbolic representation of it shoved in his face when he was doing Erik a favor and expecting nothing in return.

Charles thought maybe he would like to go downstairs and help with the students after all.

Before anything else he figured he ought to be a decent person, so he headed back toward the bathroom to set the clean clothes on the back of the toilet. “These should fit or at least work for the night,” Charles called. “I’ll throw your clothes in the wash as well. I have to go downstairs for a while anyway to help with the students. If you want to move rooms before I get back just let me know and I’ll point you to one that’ll be out of the way.”

The movement in the shower quieted somewhat and Charles wished he’d been able to better keep the irritation out of his voice. “Can’t go the night without their dear professor, can they?”

Charles pressed his lips together. “I don’t see what good it’ll do either of us for me to stand around here. You already have everything you need.”

There was a _schick_ noise as the shower curtain pulled back somewhat and Erik peered around it. He always looked younger with his hair flattened down onto his head like it was. For a moment he only fixed Charles with a scrutinizing look and the quiet patter of water alone filled the space.

It threw Charles off more than it should have and he forced himself to pull back some, if only in his own mind. He knew he wasn’t exactly succeeding at acting mature, and his frustration over his far-too-strong reaction to the helmet was not a good excuse.

“Do you want to do this now?” Erik asked.

“What do you mean?” Charles said, although he thought he knew.

Erik sighed. “As much as I enjoy arguing with you, Charles, I’m getting too old for all this beating around the bush. You might as well just tell me what you’re upset about so we can get on with it.”

Charles felt the irritation already brewing within him rally at Erik’s dismissive tone, as if he was in any position to act superior at the moment, and he did his best to push it right back down. He took a deep breath of the humid air around him and forced himself to straighten his mask. Erik was right in one regard. They were probably getting too old for childish squabbling over the same damn things again and again.  
  
“It’s nothing important enough to warrant discussion,” Charles said, more pleased this time with his relatively even tone of voice. “In any case, I’m sure you’re tired. I think it’d be a much better use of our time if I left you be and got on my way.”

Erik, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem entirely convinced, but luckily he wasn’t in a combative enough mood to pursue it any further. He dropped his eyes and Charles felt a little less like someone was stepping on his chest. “If you say so. However, there is one more thing I’d like to ask for before you go.”

“Alright,” Charles said, unsure what else he could do at this point other than agree. “What is it?”

“Could you come in here for a minute and help me get at my back? I can’t really tell if there’s something there I should be avoiding.”

Charles didn’t know what he’d been expecting but it wasn’t that. He did his best not to balk. “Can’t I just look from here?” he suggested weakly.

Erik shrugged, unabashed. “You could, but it’d be more help if you'd come in. I could use an extra pair of hands. I want to get as much of this off me as I can but moving around and stretching aren’t the easiest things for me right now.”

For a short stretch of time it was only the water again, responding in Charles’s place. He was mostly shocked by Erik admitting to him that he was in enough pain to require assistance. Even if Erik was generally blunt, he also tended to mask his weaknesses whenever possible. That made Charles think it must be fairly painful and he couldn’t help the twinge of concern that came along with the thought.

He wasn’t really needed downstairs. He could help Erik. He just wasn’t sure how he felt about getting into the shower with him at the moment.

“I don’t know,” Charles stalled.

“Come on,” Erik complained. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Besides, if you were really needed downstairs you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.” He pulled the curtain shut again. “Get in the shower, Charles.”

Unfortunately, he had a point and Charles thought he should stop pretending like this was a difficult decision already. Helmet or not helmet, he might as well get something out of this whole fiasco. So, he began to pull his cardigan over his head. (He briefly needled himself over giving in so easily, but left it be soon enough. He’d never been good at saying no to Erik.)

If it’d been some years prior Charles might have felt more apprehensive about undressing in front of someone else, but he’d long since gotten over the way his body looked. It hardly mattered much anymore. The only real hurdle had been Erik and he’d never had much patience for shame which, in this case, was more of a relief than anything else. To be fair, he was also more adept at doing all of this himself, including managing the shower, so there was a lot less embarrassing fumbling than there used to be.

Erik knew better—or at least Charles hoped he did—than to ask if he needed help. That sort of thing was what Charles didn’t have patience for these days, particularly from him. Charles nudged the shower curtain aside some so he could get close enough to transfer himself from his chair to the bench inside.

Erik had the showerhead pointed toward the other corner of the space so Charles wasn’t immediately hit by it, which he did appreciate. Once he was settled he found it in himself to look up and see what his companion was up to. He thought surely Erik would be looking at him. He tended to watch objects of interest like a big cat: never allowing it to stray out of sight even if he remained perfectly still. But not tonight. Erik’s eyes were lowered or at least not focused on him. Charles might have taken it for propriety if he didn’t know Erik as well as he did.

Strange.

Charles felt as though he’d shed the blinders that were his own well-worn feelings along with his clothes and now could see something he couldn’t before. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was yet. It was still a blurred shape in a fogged up mirror in his mind. He knew something was off about all of this, but he couldn’t pin it down.

It was unlike Erik to bid him stay when he wanted to go. It was especially unlike him to do so even remotely civilly. He could have just started up the argument that was always roiling just beneath their feet, ready to break through and divide the ground between them further yet. That would’ve kept Charles there at least a bit longer.

Erik’s mind hovered within Charles’s awareness, a bright point like light rebounding off metal, almost painful to look at, open to him as it almost never was. Charles did his best to ignore it. He’d never get to the bottom of this that way and he’d hate himself in the morning if he tried.

“Well,” Charles said, deciding he wasn’t going to get anywhere at the rate he was going. Better to just see where things went for now. “Come along then. I can’t very well help you from way over here and I’m not in any position to be coming to you.”

Erik moved toward him, soap in hand, and there was something about him crossing the space between them, coming when called that Charles couldn’t help but like.

With Erik now close enough to touch, handing the soap over to him, Charles suddenly felt more viscerally aware of the situation they were in. It wasn’t their nudity alone that caused it, although it had been a while. It was more the novel space they were in. Charles couldn’t remember the last time they’d showered together. The situation was so…ordinary that it felt strange, the dissonance between this and their everyday lives almost tangible.

It was also the fact that nudity in a bedroom implied something fairly specific and even impersonal, but here there was ambiguity. It could be sexual, but it didn’t have to be. It wasn’t right now. It could be construed instead into something like intimacy.

Charles pushed the thought from his mind. Those kinds of notions were like alcohol: rich and easy enough to luxuriate in at the moment, but far from worth what it cost him these days. He nudged Erik’s arm so he would turn around. He wasn’t doing very well making eye contact anymore either, so it would be nice to have an excuse for it.

Erik turned and Charles had to press his teeth together to keep himself from making a sound. He knew he should be used to it by now, the violence of it all, particularly when it came to Erik, but he didn’t think he ever would be.

This was where whoever he’d been fighting with had had the worst of their way with him. There was bruising splashed across the entire plane of skin, like someone had taken the water an artist had been using to clean their brushes and poured it over Erik’s back. The cuts were the deepest here as well, enough to open the skin rather than just graze it. This would be a good start but, seeing how Erik looked like this was the first time he’d seen soap in a while, the small part of Charles’s brain that contained knowledge of medical science was urging him to find a stronger disinfectant sooner than later. One looked deep enough to need stitches even.

What bothered Charles more than the physical reality of the injuries was how precise the worse cuts were.  This hadn’t been done haphazardly in the midst of a fight. These had been made purposefully, one by one. Apparently this wasn’t just a case of Erik antagonizing the occasional government entity or opposing some mutant group as he was prone to doing from time to time and being met with more resistance than he’d been expecting.

Charles took a deep breath in through his nose, reaching out to trace the edge of one of the cuts as lightly as he could, rubbing away some of the blood dried there. He could still see Erik’s muscles tense as he winced. His previous irritation flew from his mind, replaced the heavy kind of concern he felt when he was shown that he couldn’t protect someone he cared about. There was anxiety there too, and powerlessness, seeping in from the part of him that feared one day he’d wake up and someone would tell him that Erik had died in any number of ways, without him knowing or being able to do anything about it.

He was glad Erik was facing away from him so he couldn’t see whatever expression he was wearing at the moment. He was getting better at keeping a straight face, but this was too much. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” Charles asked, his voice steadier than it could have been. “Because I’d tell you to go to a real doctor if I thought there was even a possibility that you would.”

“I’ve had worse,” Erik said.

Charles almost scoffed. So had he, but that didn’t mean anything. Breaking your leg as a kid wasn’t going to help you much if someone decided to slit your throat. “That doesn’t answer my question.” Carefully he began running the bar of soap over the spaces without cuts and felt Erik tense again.

Erik sighed. “It’s nothing new, Charles. I was doing my work and ran into some people who don’t like what I’m doing. Not all of us have an entire school full of children to send out on the frontlines for us.”

Charles pressed his lips together, tasting metal in the back of his mouth at the comment. He scrubbed harder than he had been at a particularly stubborn patch of crimson which drew a more audible reaction from Erik. Charles tried not to feel too gratified from it. “Mutant or human?” he asked instead.

“…mutant.”

The pause was noticeable. Charles couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. That would save him a headache and them from another years-old, pointless argument. Charles waited for more, but nothing came.

He swallowed his own sigh and focused back on his task. Erik might tell him yet. They just had to ease into it. There was a lot of easing into things with Erik, always had been. The persona he wore emanated vicious efficiency and the air of a man who didn’t second guess himself, and Charles had first thought that must just be the way he was. He eventually learned better, and he was surprised when he did. Reaching Erik—not Magneto, but _Erik_ —was not unlike wading through a briar patch. It was lot more about patience than brute force.

Erik stood still for him, abnormally patient as Charles cleaned from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine, getting as close to his wounds as he dared. He handed the showerhead to Charles eventually so he could rinse as he went. The rivulets of water falling down between them into the basin were somewhere between red and brown, not unlike rust being stripped from metal. Despite the illusion Erik’s skin was deceptively firm beneath his hands and warm from the water.

Some switch flipped on in Charles’s brain and a memory so diametrically opposed and yet so surreally similar to the present returned to him.

He remembered back when this shower looked more like something you’d find in any old person’s bathroom: normal tub with raised sides, no need for more than a soap dish to prop your foot up on if necessary, and probably a third of the size of the one that was here now. Not that that had ever stopped them. There was a rosy period of time that lingered somewhere in the deeper parts of his mind like the scent of a loved one’s perfume which Charles couldn’t help but discount as a dream half the time. There, almost everyone was still alive and well, happy even, high off being part of a team, some faces that were still around, too many not. It was stolen time, squished between Shaw’s first direct attack and Cuba, not more than a paragraph in the book of stories this old house could tell.

And Erik was there. Not because he had nowhere else to go or because he needed something and knew Charles would let him use him to get it, but because at the time it seemed absurd that he’d be anywhere else. He was on their side after all. He was on Charles’s side, _by_ his side, figuratively and literally.

Yes, he remembered this shower and steam fogging up the mirror and his hands slipping down the tile on the wall, searching for something to hold onto, and Erik’s body hot and real up against his, the two of them crowded together out of necessity and desire both. Back then they had both wanted the same thing and that made everything so, so easy.

Charles blinked and shook himself, glancing around for a more present distraction. Doing so he felt strangely grateful for the fact that his body was rarely interested in any sort of visible reaction to those types of thoughts these days. He also realized he had his hands on Erik’s waist, having reached the base of his spine and moved beyond the worst of the injuries, and had probably left them there for too long already.

He drew them back to himself soon after and Erik turned as if pulled by the motion, giving Charles a questioning look. He looked more familiar than he had so far that night, his gaze softer, tempered.

“I’m done,” Charles said for something to say.

Erik didn’t look away yet. “Are you?”

Charles took his meaning easily enough. They were far too old for innuendo but fell back on it far too often anyway. At one point it was a sort of comfort that they still knew each other well enough to know what was going on in the other’s head without speaking, but that was a naïve way of looking at it. Really it was just yet another thing hanging between them, left unspoken.

Despite his mind’s earlier wanderings, he nodded without much thought. “For now, yes.” He knew it would feel too much like Erik was going along out of obligation, some perverse exchange between the two of them. It wasn’t a standard he wanted to set.

Erik nodded and turned away, moving to replace the shower head and finish up. Charles knew it was less because he felt the same and more because that was one case where he tended not to push.

All at once he decided he’d about had enough of the liminality saturating the bathroom. It seemed dangerous to sit still in it for too long, like he could become entrapped if he wasn’t careful. So he began seeking for something productive to do and succeeded easily enough. He reached out past the shower curtain into the colder air outside to grab a towel.

“I remembered something I need to do,” he said to Erik’s back. He wasn’t sure if it looked better now that he could clearly see the cuts or not. “It won’t take me long. Do you mind waiting until I get back?”

He didn’t clarify waiting for what. They seemed to be on steadier ground now than they had been a half hour before, short-term irritations giving way to deeper, older truths, but that didn’t mean anything. Erik might still want his own space tonight.

There was a pause long enough for Charles to wonder what words were meant to fit into it. Then, finally, “Go ahead.”

Slightly against his better judgement he went. He took a deep breath he when exited the bedroom and pressed the door shut firmly behind him. He was grateful for the cool, dry air of the house. It was just what he needed to help him clear his head.

It seemed Hank had managed to get the rest of the lights back on, Charles noticed as he moved down the hall. (He felt a bit like he’d left a lit candle unattended but did his best not to think about it.) He realized he ought to check where everyone was—an embarrassingly belated thought if he’d ever heard one—and by then it was too late.

He jolted when he felt the tap on his shoulder, unused to being surprised. When he turned he saw familiar red hair and solemn eyes and he thought maybe he should have expected this. Jean was getting stronger every day, and more headstrong as well. She was alone. The others were either still downstairs or already headed off to bed.

Charles cleared his throat, unable to help feeling somewhat caught. “Hello, Jean. Did you need something?”

“There’s someone else here,” she said bluntly. Her tone was worried rather than accusatory.

He considered lying to her, keeping her blinders on, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He wished someone had told him sooner that everything in the world wasn’t always so clear cut as heroes and villains, right and wrong. “Yes,” he agreed, turning to face her.

Her eyebrows pulled together and she glanced off to the side. Charles could almost see her paradigm shifting before his eyes. He’d always thought the hardest part of being a mentor figure was the moment when your students realized you weren’t so perfect after all.

“You’re okay with it?” she asked eventually, implying now that she knew who their visitor was.

“I’m allowing it, yes.”

Jean rubbed at her forearm, pushing the fabric of her shirt sleeve back and forth, shifted from foot to foot, restless. “You think it’s safe?”

Charles honestly didn’t know for sure, but he did know that uncertainty here, even if it was honest, wouldn’t help anything. “Yes,” Charles said, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “For tonight.” Jean was quiet again and he thought once she saw what he’d been going to get she might understand or at least feel more at ease. “Walk with me?”

She nodded and walked alongside him when he started to move forward again. For a few strides she held her silence. Charles could practically feel her mind churning beside him, restless waves on a windy day crashing up against a cliff they hadn’t known was there before.

“Why are you helping him?” she finally asked.

 _Because he asked_. _Because I’m weak. Because it’s him_. None of that sounded particularly reassuring or appropriate so Charles cast out for something else. “Because I felt like it was the right thing to do.” A hilariously moralistic answer considering the real circumstances but it was an ideal he tried to hold up when he could. “He came peacefully. That’s the only reason either of us could tell he was here at all.”

Jean pursed her lips to the side. Charles had to fight back a smile. He supposed he ought to be proud of her for questioning what she was told rather than blindly accepting it. They’d reached the closet he’d been heading toward, so he drew to a stop and pulled it open, rummaging around one of the lower shelves until he found what he was looking for.

He pulled the first-aid kit free and thought he should really have one in his room. It wasn’t like they had a shortage of them around here. Actually, chances were that there had been one there at some point but someone had taken it to use it and just never put it back.

When he closed to the door and looked back up Jean’s eyes were on the kit, taking it in, reassessing.

“I know you always tell us to help everyone and see the good in people,” Jean began, “and with humans I understand. Mostly they just don’t know any better. They’re ignorant and that can be changed. But I think helping _everyone_ , including people who’ve purposefully hurt you seems like it might be a good way to get hurt again.”

Charles forced a smile onto his face to hide whatever else might’ve formed there instead. “Yes,” he said. “You’re right. Pacifism and self-preservation don’t always go hand in hand.”

 _Right, pacifism_ , part of his mind hissed back. _That’s what this is_.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, doubt suddenly shadowed Jean’s face. “I just don’t know if I can do that. I want to try, but…sometimes it feels like it would be sacrificing the safety of a lot of people I care about for someone who might not deserve it.”

Charles felt something in himself relax at once, immensely grateful for the reminder that Jean’s focus, like the focus of most young people, was on herself and her own struggles more than anything else. The guilt he felt sloshing around in his stomach was making him paranoid, but he was alone in the courtroom of his mind, judge, jury and executioner at once. Jean’s head was somewhere else entirely.

“It’s not always possible,” Charles assured her. “Sometimes it’s a judgement call. Ideals are called that for a reason. Luckily, you have very good judgement which is something that can be difficult to come by.”

Some of the tightness in Jean’s face dissipated. He could tell she didn’t believe him entirely, but they were working on it. He’d get her to believe in her own strength one of these days. She was one of the best of them. Slowly she nodded.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

Charles blinked, not having expected the conversation to continue beyond sending her on her way. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted.

She frowned. “He won’t even tell you? Even though you’re letting him stay here?”

Charles couldn’t help but laugh and it lifted some of the weight off his chest. “He does like his secrets. I don’t always want to know what he’s been up to anyway. Don’t worry too much about it. I’ll keep an eye on him. If something does happen, you’ll be the first to know, but until then, let’s keep this between us.” He winked at her.

It was a bit unfair to her, he knew, but he also knew she liked to be trusted with things. He doubted she would tell anyone else. One side of her lips curled up. “I understand.”

He bid her goodnight soon after and went on his way back down the hall, wondering how worthwhile it was to teach such ideals when they so rarely held up in real life. Jean’s thinking was often straight-forward and logical and at the moment he envied her. Some objectivity would do him well, but he doubted he could ever be unbiased when it came to Erik. Things were never simple when you loved someone and continued to love them across the years and the fights and the distance and the mutual wounds. There was an inevitability to it all that defied any kind of logic or lesson learned.

Charles would always miss him, would always love him, would always wait for him, would always fight with himself over whether or not to tell him any of that, weighing the risk of giving him that sort ammo versus the probability that he would never see him again. He’d gotten better at keeping it to himself as time stretched on. It was less out of self-preservation and more out of the fear that he’d say it and it wouldn’t matter.

He sighed, swiping at his eyes. He was getting too old for this.

Down the hall he could see lights slowly being turned off and could sense some minds drifting off toward sleep, growing fuzzy and quiet. The light under his door stood out starkly like a physical barrier. He was standing still again, stagnant, afraid. The irritation was enough to propel him forward, pushing the door open and allowing the strip of light to expand rapidly out into the hallway. Charles hurried to recapture it.

It would help, he thought, if Erik wasn’t so aloof. Of all his defense mechanisms that one was the worst. He’d almost rather see him angry.

“I’m back,” he called, but when he turned he found the room was empty.

After a moment of frantic searching, he realized the shower was off, that much he could hear, but the door was still shut, the light creeping out from under it duller but present. At least he was still there, Charles decided, although he had no idea what he could still be doing in there.

Charles went over to his desk to set the first aid kit down and then wheeled back toward the bathroom door. He paused outside of it, wondering what his best course of action was. He was willing to help Erik out, sure, but that didn’t mean he appreciated the idea of being locked out of his own bathroom.

He couldn’t hear much inside, no water running or movement. The only thing he could sense coming from the space was Erik’s mind which was more than making up for the radio silence he was getting everywhere else. Although he knew he probably shouldn’t, Charles couldn’t help but let a bit slip through, like opening the door just a crack to check the temperature outside. He blocked it out again just as quickly, surprised by what he’d felt.

All at once he felt paradoxically that entering was a very bad idea and that he couldn’t _not_ go in. Carefully he placed a hand on the doorknob, testing it out. He couldn’t very well go in if it was locked, now could he? It turned easily for him, and he continued to twist until the door opened, and at that point he was inside anyway so there wasn’t much to be done about it.

He tapped out a belated knock on the door as he nudged it open. There weren’t any orders to cease and desist put forth so on he went, moving so he was in the doorway. The room was still humid, the steam from the shower lingering, trapped inside. Erik was dressed in the clothes Charles had left for him and was standing hunched over the sink.

It might have looked like exhaustion if Charles couldn’t see his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping onto the edge of the countertop or the way his shoulders were shaking. More telling yet was the sharp, ragged sound of his breaths, composed of quick, shallow inhales and longer, stuttering exhales. He looked nothing like the intimidating shadow thrown up against Charles’s window earlier that night, nor the man who’d strolled into his bathroom without asking permission and shrugged off his attempts to ask what’d happened, nothing at all.

Slowly he straightened up and made some effort to compose himself before he turned to face Charles. It didn’t do much good. Charles could see the remnants of everything he’d felt roiling around in his mind still: pain and frustration and grief and fear. He could see it in the lines on his face and the redness of his eyes. He swallowed back his own wave of sorrow at the sight.

Erik’s masks were only getting better with time it seemed, even if he’d managed to see the beginnings of this one slipping off a while earlier.

Erik bore his gaze, looking like a man who knew he’d been caught and wasn’t about to waste time denying it. Still, he avoided meeting Charles’s eyes.

All the convoluted nonsense that’d been running through his mind suddenly didn’t seem so important anymore.

“I brought a first aid kit,” he said, unable to decide on anything better to say. He wasn’t sure there was anything. “Let me disinfect the worst ones at least.”

A flash of relief slipped across Erik’s face before he nodded. “Just give me a minute,” he said, voice still gruff.

Charles did, going to set up with the kit. He considered the couch briefly before deciding he was too tired for any more formality and transferring to the bed instead. By the time he’d taken the liberty of dressing down to a more comfortable level Erik had emerged from the bathroom, shutting the light off behind him. It was dark in the room now, just the lamp by the side of the bed lighting the space, haloing the area in its reach with a softer light than the fluorescent bulbs in the bathroom had provided.

Erik came without being beckoned, slowly crossing the room and sinking down onto the bed beside Charles. He pulled his feet up onto the mattress and sat cross-legged, turning so his back was to Charles once more. Finally he pulled his shirt up over his head, keeping his arms in the sleeves and the fabric stretched across his chest, revealing the truth of the situation again. Charles took it as silent consent to begin and tore open a disinfectant wipe.

“They caught me when I wasn’t expecting it,” Erik said, his voice low. Still, the break in silence felt a lot like hitting glass with a hammer. “I underestimated them and went alone. It was supposed to be simple reconnaissance.”

Charles frowned, running the wipe lightly over the cuts one by one. “Do you think they had an informant?” That would be another reason for him to come here—if he didn’t know who of his own people he could trust.

Erik took a deep breath. “Most likely. I guess they saw their chance and they took it.” He winced as Charles went over the deepest cut again, concerned by how much it was bubbling. “It was the same routine as usual. They knocked me out with some drug or another, tied me up, took me with them, threw me in some dark room where I couldn’t…feel anything.”

 _No metal_ , he meant. Charles hummed. Erik’s power was incredibly unique, but the specificity of it made it so it could be combatted simply enough if you knew the right way to go about it. Erik had told him before that it was worse than simple sensory deprivation, like he was slowly bleeding out and could do nothing to stop it. He carefully traced the pink, ragged edges of skin around one of the smaller wounds. “This doesn’t look like the same as usual.”

That gave Erik pause, the silence sweeping back in for a moment while Charles considered the small tube of Neosporin he had and decided it would just feel silly to try to do anything with it. He was pulling out the roll of gauze when Erik spoke again.

“They were more sadistic than the usual lot. If I can say anything for what few rights the government of this country gives to prisoners it’s that at least they don’t usually allow them to be sliced up for the hell of it.”

Charles scoffed at him, pressing the end of the gauze down, holding it in place. “Lift your arms for me, would you?”

Erik did, slowly and carefully. Charles could see the effort it took to move in the tensing of his muscles and hurried to wrap the fabric around his chest, covering up the tell-tale crimson bit by bit. Charles imagined that he was erasing the cuts, lifting the hurt, but it was only a fantasy. “It’d be best not to think of things like this as normal,” he murmured, unable to help himself from scolding the other man a bit.

“What should I think of them then? I can’t let every fool with a knife get to me.”

 _These ones clearly did_ , Charles thought, but kept it to himself. The moment they’d shared earlier felt like something that should remain unspoken. It seemed breakable and ready to cut with the edges that would reveal.

“It was only because I wasn’t expecting it,” Erik continued, not sounding as convincing as he probably meant to. Charles couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t him Erik was trying to prove it to anyway. “The shock got to me is all.”

Charles pressed his lips together, a million ways to respond running through his mind. Some of the frustration from earlier was worming its way back in and the urge to thoroughly disillusion Erik of such flimsy excuses was right behind it. He distracted himself by smoothing the gauze down, running his hand lightly around Erik’s chest. The material was scratchier than his skin, the transition between the two stark. He thought if he couldn’t get rid of the injuries this at least felt like building a layer of protection, putting _some_ thing between Erik and the world.

Clearly he needed to be disillusioned as well. Charles taped the other end so the wrap would stay in place and checked his work. He noticed there was already red seeping through the bandages, reality bleeding through, and something in him broke.

His throat tightened and his vision began to blur and he couldn’t help but slip his arms underneath Erik’s where he was still holding his up, curling them around his chest as lightly as he could while still being able to feel the solidity of his body. He pressed the side of his face into the nape of Erik’s neck and squeezed his eyes shut. He was too far gone to be hesitant at this point. Fortunately he didn’t need to worry about it as soon enough there was another pair of arms covering his own, and then they were both holding on.

The touch, simple as it was, made him ache anew and he took a shaky breath in. “No one can expect everything,” he pointed out, sounding fairly pathetic but he supposed it _was_ about that time of night. “Not even me. Not even you.”

Erik’s fingers curled around his forearms and he squeezed tightly enough that Charles could feel the individual pads of his fingers. “I know. All I can do is try.”

Charles let himself hold Erik for a while longer, let himself feel his heart beating and his chest rising and falling, let himself smell the soap on his skin and listen to his quiet breathing and forget the damn helmet still shoved in the back of his closet. Erik didn’t move to pull him off, and that made it easier to eventually let go. He pulled his arms back into himself, wiping at his eyes and going to repack the kit. He supposed this would just be another thing they didn’t talk about. For some reason he doubted it would make things any easier.

“Thank you,” Erik said, slowly turning to face Charles who was momentarily frozen by the statement. Erik ran his hand over the gauze covering his chest as if to clarify for what.

Charles clicked the kit shut and pushed it away, off down the bed, trying to gather himself. When he glanced back up he saw a shadow of some sort had come back across Erik’s face and there was unrest in his mind once more. “I don’t deserve your help,” he murmured.

Charles frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. Self-deprecation wasn’t exactly one of Erik’s stronger traits. “I don’t know what you mean. You were bleeding on the carpet. I wasn’t going to throw you out on the street.”

Erik gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

 _I guess we are going to talk about it_ , Charles thought. It seemed Erik was determined to prove him wrong repeatedly that night. He knew he could brush it off again and he had a feeling that, if he did, Erik would leave it be. Normally he would. Continuing would be like walking blindfolded across a firing range for both of them.

He looked up at Erik from where he’d been staring at his lap, meeting the cool blue of his eyes. Without thinking Charles reached up and ran his fingers through one of the shocks of grey in his hair, still a bit wet from the shower. Erik leaned his head into the touch without much thought as far as Charles could tell and he felt something like resolve precipitate within him.

“It would make me feel better if you’d show up now and again when you aren’t mortally wounded or annoyed that my students got in the way of some plan of yours we had no way of knowing about,” he admitted, pulling his hand back but not dropping his eyes.

Erik blinked, thrown off by Charles straying from the usual mutual silence that characterized these nights, but he recovered quickly, blowing a breath out through his nose. “What? Should I show up for afternoon tea? I’m sure that would go over well.”

Charles fought the urge to roll his eyes (that he really was too old for) and looked past the specific words for what they were. Erik had apparently taken the duty of deflecting upon himself. Charles couldn’t blame him. For this to work he knew he was probably going to have to take the first hit. Blood for blood and all that. He thought he ought to just get it over with. The words were right there, always resting on the back of his tongue, just desperate enough to stay swallowed back.

Unable to help it, he glanced back down at his hands, threading his fingers together. “I just…miss you.” He dug his fingers into the soft space between his thumb and index finger on his opposite hand. “Part of me wishes that you would just stay away for good next time you leave. I think it might be better than feeling like a utility.” He couldn’t help the sharpness hiding beneath those words. He didn’t like to feel used even if he kept allowing it.

Erik took a deep breath and then there were fingers prying his hands apart, curling around his fingers, holding them still and separate. When he dared to look up Erik’s head was down, watching their hands in his place. “I don’t deserve you, Charles. I never have. Sometimes I think I come around just hoping that you’ll turn me away. You know you should.”

Charles squeezed back as if in retaliation. “If that’s the case, you should prepare to be disappointed in me for a very long time,” he retorted, even if Erik had part of a point about the fact that he really should have ended this a while ago and saved them both the time. He wished he wouldn’t say things like that. He didn’t need Erik of all people putting him up on a pedestal. This wasn’t about worth.

Erik caught his eyes again and his gaze was sterner now, familiarly stubborn. Charles looked right back, setting his jaw until the other man sighed. “I don’t want you to wait for me. There’s nothing I can give you to break even. It’s a no sum game.”

The part of Charles that remembered all the bad things and collected them like a magpie, storing them somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach couldn’t help but think that he was right. What was worse was that logic was on its side. Charles knew how things were. If Erik hadn’t wanted to build a life with him thirty-some years ago he certainly wasn’t going to want to now. It was what Charles wanted, but it wasn’t realistic by any stretch of the imagination.

They had their personas to live up to now, Magneto and Professor X, separate agendas, conflicting ideologies, completely incompatible ways of life. Hell, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he didn’t even know if Erik still cared for him or if he’d become a matter of convenience. More often than not it felt like there was a chasm between them that was stretching wider as the years passed by. Charles was afraid that one day soon he wouldn’t be able to even see the other side, and that Erik would be out of reach forever.

It was hard to see past the short-term and dig down to the core of everything, but Charles thought maybe at last he’d found it in freezing cold water and a wild leap of faith.

“You’re here,” Charles said. “That’s enough for me. Erik, you were the first person to truly make me feel like I wasn’t alone and you’re the only to do it since. I’ll never stop wanting to feel this way.” _Whole_ , Charles thought, although that he kept to himself.

Erik’s expression softened, his eyebrows drawing together. “Charles—”

Charles could hear the objection in his voice and wasn’t interested in dealing with it at the moment, still feeling raw from his admission. And maybe it was him still shying away for the sake of protecting himself from something he wouldn’t want to hear, but they couldn’t close the gap between them in one night. At least now he thought he could see the start of a bridge, rickety or otherwise, and he’d taken a couple steps onto it. That was enough. Besides, he could feel tears threatening to make themselves known again. “Be quiet and come here already. If we were twenty years younger you’d have had me on my back by now.”

Erik was good enough to laugh and do as he was told. He kissed Charles deeper than he’d been expecting, curling into him and bit by bit relieving the ache in his throat.

Charles was out of breath by the time Erik pulled back. Heat curled in his chest and up to his face, and he couldn’t help but marvel at its persistent presence after all these years. When he opened his eyes even the dim lamplight felt blinding, the rest of the room and the house and all its inhabitants fading away into the night. Erik pressed his face under his jaw and when he spoke his voice was gruff in an entirely different way. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

Charles thought there was something to be said for knowing when to stop talking and get on with it already.

Neither of them was interested in anything overly complicated so Erik kneeled up over him a position that had become increasingly familiar and let Charles draw a new sort of tension into him and release it in turn, fingers buried deep inside of velvet, yielding warmth. In return Erik pressed his forehead against Charles’s and yielded his mind completely, letting his pleasure pour into Charles like a warm spring. Charles let it flow through him, taking the gift for what it was. It was more than enough.

This too was both of them being vulnerable, laying themselves bare for one another, but it was nowhere near as terrifying. Charles thought that maybe if this could become natural with time, other kinds of trust could too. It was something to hope for.

They collapsed into bed soon after. No one said anything about Erik staying the night somewhere else. Erik flicked the light off without looking which Charles thought was a little unnecessary but didn’t feel like pointing it out. Erik’s arm was heavy and warm around his waist and the other man looked ready to fall asleep at any second.

There was still an endless list of things Charles wanted to say to him, but ultimately all he did was drop a kiss onto his shoulder and whisper, “Rest up.” He felt Erik’s mind quiet down to a soft hum soon after, the lines of his body relaxing as he slept. Erik giving in to comfort so easily was a rare sight indeed and he made sure to appreciate it while he could.

Charles scanned the house quickly and found everyone else had found their way to bed as well. Not everyone was asleep, but at least they’d turned in for the night. The responsible part of his mind breathed a sigh of relief at the discovery. He did a sweep around the mansion too and found nothing particularly interesting.

He’d hoped maybe that would be enough to calm his mind enough for him to sleep but that didn’t seem to be the case. It was busy running over everything that’d been said and done, wondering about tomorrow and everything that came after that, wondering if this changed anything. And that was the real question, wasn’t it? The thing that actually mattered, no matter how many other winding paths his mind could travel down.

Erik shifted in his sleep, pressing his face into the space under Charles’s jaw. Charles ran his hand lightly over the long line of his body. He wouldn’t be here tomorrow. He’d go off again to who knows where to do who knew what. Charles would never know fully the way that mind of his worked, which parts of it pulled him away from Charles and what parts drew him back. Things would always go unsaid and the space between them would never fully close.

But, Charles thought, he was glad he’d said what he had. The older he got the more he realized that he should be grateful for the time he was given while he had it and despite everything he’d bear a thousand more tomorrows if it meant another today. Anyway, he didn’t need to be worrying this time away.

 _You can’t force things or people to change_ , Charles told his restless mind. _Especially not in the middle of the night_. _He knows now, and that’s better than nothing_.

A few variations on that theme seemed to be enough or his brain just tired itself out as eventually sleep found him. It didn’t stay with him long, but it never did these days. When he opened his eyes again new light had found its way into the room, rosy and foreboding at once, the very beginning of the sunrise making itself known. He’d rolled over in his sleep and had the sudden unfortunate thought that it might have been a dream. Still half-asleep and willing to panic over the stray thought he jerked to the side to find that Erik was still there, although the movement had woken him to some degree.

Charles huffed, annoyed at himself for the overreaction and settled back into the sheets, hiding from the day. He’d have to deal with it eventually, but not quite yet. Erik shifted beside him, squinting into the light and ultimately turning as well, yawning widely. He looked sideways at Charles for a long moment and must have seen something notable in his expression because he asked, “What?”

Charles tried to smooth out his expression and shrugged. “You’re here,” he said, something sweet and ephemeral coalescing inside of him. It wouldn’t stay there for long, particularly considering how heavy his eyelids suddenly felt, but it was lovely nonetheless.

It only got stronger when Erik gave him a lopsided smile and agreed: “I’m here.”


End file.
